The Turning of the Thumb
by Regency
Summary: Neither Bernie nor Serena are keen to get out of bed on their morning off, not even for coffee, but somebody's got to do it. They agree to thumb wrestle for the privilege, and the game is on. Ficlet.


Author: Regency

Title: The Turning of the Thumb

Pairing: Bernie Wolfe/Serena Campbell

Contains: Tooth-rooting fluff.

Summary: Neither Bernie nor Serena are keen to get out of bed on their morning off, not even for coffee, but somebody's got to do it. They agree to thumb wrestle for the privilege, and the game is on.

Author's Notes: Written for delightfullyambiguous over on Tumblr who requested a Berena thumb wrestle for the Touching Meme. Come squee with me about Berena on Tumblr at sententiousandbellicose!

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters recognizable as being from Holby City. They are the property of their actors, producers, writers, and studios, not me. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made in the writing or distribution of this story. It was good, clean fun.

* * *

Bernie stares up to where the long arms of the sun's rays are beginning to creep across the ceiling. It's only just gone 6:30 in the morning and while she knows she should be up for her morning run, she can't quite manage it yet.

"I'd kill for a cuppa," Bernie says more to herself than anyone else.

Serena makes a laborious effort of turning over to look at her and Bernie looks back. Sleep always makes a mess of Serena, takes the careful order of her and jumbles it up, leaves crease marks from the pillow on her face, renders her hair wilder than Bernie's own hands can do. She's all heavy-eyed and yawning till she finds her way to the percolator downstairs. This is Serena Campbell without any of her defenses as only Bernie gets to see.

Serena sweeps Bernie's fringe out of her eyes. "Looked your fill yet?"

"Not yet."

"Hmm, I should charge admission. What're my chances of getting caffeine out of this deal? We'll call it an even trade. You can gaze at me and I get coffee."

"I can't 'gaze' at you up here if I'm making coffee down there."

"Take a picture."

"I prefer the real deal."

"Bernie," Serena wheedles, tugging at the hem of Bernie's vest top. "I can't function without caffeine and you know it."

"I'm no better than you at it. Why don't _you_ go down and make it for us?"

"I'm exhausted."

" _I'm_ exhausted. _Somebody_ kept me awake all night because she wanted to try a certain new purchase from Ye Olde Sex Shoppe."

Serena's right eyebrow turns mutinous. "I didn't hear you complaining last night."

"I wasn't. What I am is bone tired and I think I did my back in." Said back muscles spasm as though they've been reminded of the prior offense. _Why did we decide to do this on a work night again?_

"I think _you_ did my hip in." The way Serena wiggles in her satin pajamas to ease the strain on said hip is not terribly convincing. It is, however, quite distracting and Bernie traces the swell of her troublesome hip through Serena's night clothes till she goes still.

"All in a night's work, Ms. Campbell." Bernie can't help feeling a touch smug about the slight hoarseness to Serena's voice this morning. There'd been quite a bit of shouting.

Serena finally crosses the thin stretch of mattress separating them to peck Bernie good morning. They're both blissed out enough from last night to ignore the morning breath for a while. Bernie's toes curl at the warmth that spreads through her, the feeling of safety and belonging she gets from having Serena draped over her and wrapped in her arms. They lay tangled together sharing the odd lazy kiss as the sun rises higher in the sky.

Bernie hums under Serena's lips, content and contemplative. "I'm still not making you coffee."

"Oh, why not?" Serena's lower lip pokes out in a manner suspiciously similar to a pout.

"You get Wednesdays. We agreed." After many mornings where neither felt up to turning on the coffee maker, they'd instituted a scheduling system that was supposed to settle the matter once and for all. Naturally, it's a complete failure.

Groaning in mock despair, Serena buries her face in Bernie's shoulder. "What if we just subsisted on no caffeine? What if we just never get out of bed?"

Bernie gives her back a rub, sneaks a hand under her pajama top to dance along Serena's spine. "What if we pour out all the Shiraz and become teetotal?"

Serena raises her head to glare in feigned indignation. "Perish the thought."

"It's your go."

"I'll wrestle you for it." Serena never misses a chance to pit her skills against Bernie's no matter how hopeless the gambit. It's one of her more adorable tendencies, not that Bernie will admit that under pain of death.

"Which of us was in the army?"

Serena grumbles outright. "Yes, yes, no need to remind me. What if we thumb wrestle for it?"

Bernie frowns. "Thumb wrestle. You think your thumb's got anything on mine?"

"What, you think I can't take your thumb?"

Bernie chooses not to remind Serena of how completely said thumb had deprived Serena of her ability to speak coherently just hours ago. "If that's how you want to settle this, I'm up for it. But no complaining when I wipe the floor with you."

Serena scrambles upright from their entwined sprawl to straddle Bernie's thighs–Bernie's first warning that this isn't going to be a fair fight. Bernie scoots back to prop herself on some pillows and Serena adjusts herself accordingly. They're close enough to kiss, something Bernie has to fight the impulse to do instinctively. When Serena is close enough that she can see the mirth in her eyes and they're all alone, Bernie kisses her. It's a law of nature, or something similarly immutable.

"Ready?" Serena offers her hand. Bernie locks her four fingers around Serena's four till only their thumbs stand free and unrestrained.

"Ready."

"My count of three."

"Your game, your count."

"3…2..1…go!"

Bernie keeps her thumb aloft and far from the dangerously swaying digit of her better half for as long as she can manage, sure that Serena is simply waiting for a chance to pin her down for the victory. Serena is far less calculated, choosing instead to feint at Bernie's thumb from different angles until Bernie is flicking back at her by default. Bernie's solid defense is a shit offense when Serena plays like she has nothing left to lose. It's official, her competitive nature has no limits.

After a minute or two of no real advantage being gained on either side Bernie can feel her wrist starting to ache and tire. _Another result of last night's activities._ She smirks a little in memory of them. The cramp was worth it.

While Bernie's distracted with memories of Serena wrapped luxuriously around her, Serena darts over their grappling hands to steal another slightly sour kiss. Bernie trails her back when she goes to retreat and, nips at her parted lips till Serena leans into her with a sigh. Their thumbs have gone still, hands clasped together for balance. Serena's thumb sits innocently atop Bernie's own, stroking at a patch of old scar tissue over her first knuckle.

"Will you look at that," Bernie says. "You beat me."

"Does this mean I get my coffee?"

"Um." Bernie still doesn't feel much like getting up and they've got the morning off today. She can think of several things she'd rather do than leave the bed.

"In a timely manner?"

"Best two out three," Bernie suggests as a stalling tactic.

Serena shifts her warm weight to let Bernie stretch out her legs. She'd move if Bernie asked but Bernie will take some pins and needles to keep her on top of her.

Serena concedes to another round agreeably. "Your count."

Bernie's put more into winning this time around. She puts her palmar dexterity to good use, trapping Serena's slim fingers in hers and swiftly capturing Serena's wily thumb before it can curl over her own. She cranks her free arm in triumph while Serena tries in vain to set herself free.

"Ha! Victory is mine. Resistance is futile."

"I regret encouraging Jason to share his Star Trek boxsets with you."

"There are four lights," Bernie persists, unbothered.

"I'm not going to pretend to recognize that reference. We're even, one more round. Winner takes all." She's got that little determined groove between her eyes now. She means to win it, not just for caffeine, but for pride.

This time she lets Serena count them off, and they're off to the races. It's no mere play time this round. Serena applies her own considerable digital dexterity to the task of getting Bernie to yield. Grip, torsion, tension, reach, and not a little verbal intimidation come into play. None of which fazes Bernie. After the army little can touch her in the moment. She has a goal (to win, to stay in bed till ten) and a method (wait Serena out); she can do this with her eyes closed.

Just as Serena's stamina is beginning to flag and Bernie gets the upper hand (or the upper thumb, as it were), Serena grins at her from beneath her lashes with a sort of self-deprecating resignation and Bernie melts. _Shit._ She likes Serena all gloating and victorious, but she loves Serena soft just as well. That's worth a trip downstairs and back to cuddle up with her.

Bernie suffers a rather conveniently timed thumb cramp right then, only a brief one and not very painful, just debilitating enough that it costs her the victory. Serena, 2; Bernie, 1.

Serena whoops her glee and kisses Bernie very sweetly for losing gracefully. Serena massages Bernie's hand with special attention to her embattled thumb and forgoes her spoils altogether for the time being. Attending to her fallen champion is far more important.

They fall back to sleep with their hands entwined between them, thumbs lightly brushing in solidarity.

Looks like Bernie's won anyway.


End file.
